Of Mixtures and Migraines
by EnsignAbby
Summary: Rose takes a sick day from Torchwood and the Doctor plays his own special brand of nurse-maid. A semi-sequel to "Of Camphor and Colds."


Of Mixtures and Migraines

By Abby

Note: This is a sequel to my other one-shot, Of Camphor and Colds. This can be read by itself, but check out the other story if you can. And as always, enjoy and be sure to leave feedback!

O o O o O

"I _finally_ get a day off from Torchwood, and is it to take a nice holiday? _No_. It's because my head is hurting so much that I'd rather puke my guts out than move a muscle…" Rose finished her rant with an unlady-like whine and curled up like a ball on the living room couch.

"Oh, but it's _brilliant_! Well, not that you having a migraine is brilliant. Well, at least not on planet Earth. On the planet Valcitor it's actually considered good lu…"

"Doctor."

"Right. Anyways, what _is _brilliant is that the shoe is on the other foot and now it is _me _who is taking care of _you_. I feel awfully embarrassed at how I behaved with my case of the cold and I hope that doting on you can be accepted as a sort of… apology."

The Doctor was currently pacing back and forth to the kitchen, and from Rose's vantage point with her face buried in the cushions she couldn't quite make out what he was up to. A strange whiff of steam blew by her nose, however, and through her haze of pain her curiosity was piqued. "Doctor, what is that you're making?"

"An herbal tisane with various herbs, some white willow bark in the infusion." The said willow bark was currently being ground by the half-Time Lord's expert hands with a mortar and pestle. "Fascinating stuff, this. The Algonquins introduced me to it on one of my visits to North America circa, oh, 1500? Now _who_ did I have with me back then?" He paused for a moment, lost in some faraway thought, but eventually came back to the present. "But most people aren't aware of the willow's properties, even though you can find one right in your backyard."

Rose sat up, and instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea hit her. "You mean to tell me that you are making me a tea with … _stuff _ you found in our backyard?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' and flashed an amused grin at her.

Fighting the urge to sink back down and cradle her head again, the blonde stumbled to find the words in her muddled brain. "But…but how can you be sure that it's safe?"

The Doctor snorted, dumping the now powdered white willow bark into the brew on the stove. "Safe? Of course it's safe. You think I would make you drink something that wasn't safe?"

He had a point, and Rose tried to convince herself that she had nothing to worry about, but past experiences surfaced in her memory and soon she was wringing her hands. "But Doctor, you learned about all this stuff in the other universe, ya? What's to say that the willow didn't evolve differently on this side of the void and just _happens_ to be poisonous?"

The tisane was off the stove by now and the pinstriped man was straining the liquid into a cup. "Oh, pish-tosh. Now you're just grasping for straws!"

"I am not!"

He just grinned at her as he came back into the living room, cup in hand. He stood by the arm of the couch, looming over Rose, obviously amused at her concern. "It's perfectly safe, don't you worry. In fact, if it makes you feel any more at ease, I'll take the first sip myself."

Rose's stomach turned and she suddenly felt very nervous about the whole ordeal. "Uh, Doctor, why don't you…"

"Here I go!" He was already tipping the contents into his mouth.

"Doctor!" Rose cried, leaping up to face him as he swallowed. The room swayed around the young woman but she held onto her lover's lapel, waiting for a reaction.

At first, there didn't seem to be any problem, but after a couple seconds the silence was broken by a large coughing fit and the Doctor doubled over. Rose panicked in earnest. "Doctor!" She started searching the room for her cellphone. "I have to call someone! I can't call the hospital, they'll ask questions…" Her frantic searched ended when she found her cellphone under some magazines on the coffee table and she rushed back to the spluttering Doctor. "I'll call Pete. Surely someone at Torchwood…"

It was then that Rose registered the noise that the Doctor was emanating. It was not coughing – it was now laughter. He was giggling like a school girl and as he stood up again she could see tears of mirth starting to spill out of his brown eyes. She had been had, and she slowly put the phone down and put her hand on her hip, temper flaring. "You think you're funny."

The Doctor has calmed considerably and was wiping away a runaway tear. "I can't believe you think that I wouldn't do some quick research before going to all that trouble." He stuck his lip out in a mock-pout. "Seriously, Rose, you're hurting my feelings."

She responded by punching him in the arm. "You git!" He only giggled some more and Rose lowered herself onto the sofa, her adrenaline wearing off and her migraine reclaiming its hold.

The Doctor must have noticed her grimace, because he went to the kitchen to pour a second cup, placing it in her hands. Rose looked down at the mixture and its sickly yellow color. Shrugging her shoulders, she drank it down without hesitation. The taste was thoroughly stringent and unpleasant, and she was more than happy when his hands took the cup from her hands so she could lay back down. She closed her eyes and sunk into the cushions, willing the throbbing pain to go away quickly.

Then pair of lips were pressed to her temple and they lingered there. The moist warmth of them were so pleasant that for a second, everything felt better. Rose sighed, and the deep timbre of her husband's voice near her ear beckoned her toward the oncoming darkness.

"Sleep well, my love."


End file.
